The Kamikaze Hearts’ third CD offers eight sterling songs
recorded home-fi style by producer Brent Gordon . . . in his
kitchen. Which is perfect, actually, for all the same reasons
that the best parts of a house party always take place betwixt
refrigerator, sink and stove, late at night after the rabble
have headed home. There’s a certain intimacy, a comfort (food)
zone, a shoeless familiarity, and a huggable honesty that
can easily take place in a kitchen—but rarely takes place
in a studio or a concert hall.

The
Kamikaze Hearts is simply fraught with such feelings of
hominess and comfort, the aural equivalent of sitting on the
kitchen counter with your best pals, telling stories and lies,
sharing milk and memories, knowing you really need to be getting
to bed . . . but staying stuck where you are anyway, caught
in the buzz of a moment you don’t want to extinguish, not
yet. And that makes The Kamikaze Hearts an album to
treasure, a collection of songs so well written and so perfectly
arranged and performed that you can’t help but put it in the
“classics” section of your record collection.

Guitarist Troy Pohl, bassist Bob Buckley, drummer Gaven Richard
and multi- instrumentalist Matthew Loiacono each shine throughout
this record’s run, together creating a rugged, modern American
folk- instrumental bed atop which they pile ragged, honest
four-part vocal harmonies, calling to mind some haunting combination
of Civil War campfire dirges and the best moments of the Grateful
Dead’s landmark American Beauty and Workingman’s
Dead records.

The album’s best songs—“Weekend in Western New York,” “Secret
Handshake,” “War Horse” and (most especially) “Beverly Hills”—provide
some deeply pleasurable and memorable auditory moments, with
each of those songs also graced with thoughtful and thought-provoking
lyrics, displaying a rich level of maturity (and sometimes
world-weariness) that one rarely encounters from such relatively
young songwriters and performers. The Kamikaze Hearts have
it in ’em to be big like Jesus, but here’s hoping that they’ll
never, ever outgrow their willingness to make kitchen music
for kitchen people, the kinds of recordings that we need so
very desperately in these pasteurized and pro-tooled days
of our collective discontent.

—J.
Eric Smith

Jimmy
ScottFalling in Love Is Wonderful
 (Rhino)

Now in his late 70s, Jimmy Scott has lived a life fraught
with one quietly dramatic disappointment after another. He
learned at age 13 that he was born with a rare genetic deficiency
in which he would bypass the hormonal changes of puberty.
Scott found release and glorious expression in singing, and
by the end of the ’40s he’d become something of a sensation
with Lionel Hampton’s band (who dubbed him Little Jimmy Scott,
because of his diminutive size and high voice). But as the
’50s rolled along, various circumstances hobbled his career
at every step.

One such circumstance befell what should’ve been a breakthrough
album. Produced by Ray Charles for his own Tangerine label,
Falling in Love Is Wonderful was released 40 years
ago, but pulled from circulation when Savoy Records’ Herman
Lubinsky waved yet again Scott’s irredeemably lopsided contract,
and grudge trumped art.

Finally available, the album’s 10 songs are as perfect as
jazz singing gets. Scott rolls across the lush orchestral
subtleties like a gazelle in a sun-dappled field. There are
now numerous recent recordings by Scott, whose comeback over
the past 10 years has been sweetly savored by a man who seems
to bear no grudges, handling his decades as a nurse’s aide
and shipping clerk with unwavering pride. This long-lost album
is a timeless and essential chapter in Scott’s life and music.

—David
Greenberger

HayseedIn Other Words 
(Artist Friendly)

Hayseed, who recently moved to the Capital Region, honed his
pipes in the Pentecostal church in his native western Kentucky,
where as a kid he was encouraged to belt to his heart’s content
and let the echoes rumble around in the rafters. And all of
that uninhibited vocal training and plain natural talent contributed
to one burly, resonant instrument. He released his debut,
Melic, in 1998 and even though it was essentially a
set of tweaked demos, accolades rained down from people such
as Lucinda Williams, who guested on the album. Williams, who
is not prone to hyperbole, told No Depression magazine
that the time-transcendent quality of Hayseed’s muse was on
a par with the work of Bob Dylan, Neil Young and Van Morrison.
In a story all too familiar, Watermelon Records tanked and
Melic didn’t reach a mass audience (although Hayseed
was able to retrieve ownership of his album).

Melic
was remarkable not only for Hayseed’s vocals but also for
his songwriting. The album seemed to have one foot in old-timey
and gospel traditions and one foot firmly in the concerns
of contemporary culture, with a bright literary streak running
through the proceedings.

It may seem an odd choice then that, for his sophomore outing,
In Other Words, Hayseed chose to do an album of covers;
however, the results are uplifting. He cherry-picked a bunch
of tunes by artists working the fringes of country (Americana,
alt-country, whatever you want to call it), including Tommy
Womack, Duane Jarvis and Tim Carroll. He also tackled the
traditional gospel tune “Farther Along” as a duet with Emmylou
Harris. Helping Hayseed (who doesn’t play an instrument) bring
these songs to life are longtime collaborator Richard “Hombre”
Price and a bunch of fine players. Upon listening to the primarily
acoustic and wonderfully organic effort (which is dedicated
to Hayseed’s father, the late Rev. Dwight Wyant), it doesn’t
seem like such a strange move after all, but a perfect follow-up
to Melic. And given Hayseed’s penchant for bucking
expectations, it’s fitting that he included a quote from Ralph
Waldo Emerson in the liner notes—for it was Emerson who suggested
that the best artists adopt no models, but forge their own
paths. And that seems to be exactly what Hayseed is doing
with his new-millennium country-gospel.

—Erik
Hage

Cary
Hudson The Phoenix
 (Black Dog)

Cary Hudson could have contin-ued using the Blue Mountain
moniker, but out of respect for his fallen alliance with ex-wife
Laurie Stirrat (twin sister of the only non-fireable Wilco
member, John Stirrat), he presents himself as a solo act on
The Phoenix. The intention remains the same, however,
as does Hudson’s affinity for the rock-trio format. Fans of
Blue Mountain’s roots intentions (particularly their more
rocked-out live sound) won’t find themselves out of sorts
on this solid effort.

The disc opens with the sprung funky blues of “High Heel Sneakers,”
which is smothered in some gleefully sleazy slide guitar and
comes off like the Band channeling Exile on Main Street
via “Cripple Creek.” “By Your Side,” “Lovin’ Touch” and the
title track find Hudson (who sounds like he’s at one of those
older-guy life junctures) adopting a more reflective and ruminative
stance. He doesn’t get too mired in the navel gazing, however:
“Bend With the Wind” is a rousing dose of countrified rock
& roll, while “Mad, Bad & Dangerous” is a defiantly
cathartic barroom blues rocker.

Hudson even emerges unscathed on a cover of Blind Willie Johnson’s
“God Don’t Never Change,” the sole cover here—though I remain
of the opinion that it’s best to leave the otherworldly soul-shaking
tunes of Blind Willie to their procreator. Nevertheless, Hudson
has some fun with the track, trading down the knee-tremblings
of the original for a Stonesy barroom brawl that once again
features his smoldering slide. The acoustic country blues
of “August Afternoon” finishes off the disc in fine fashion,
leaving one with the impression that, Blue Mountain aside,
Hudson’s got a lot of vital music left in him.